Pentecost 18 C: The Secret
Dear Partner in Preaching,
What do you think? Is it too much to suggest to our hearers that the secret to a good life and the heart of our faith is contained in this brief passage?
The key to both is tucked away in a deceptively simple observation: They’re all made well. All the men in this story, that is. They are all made well. Did you notice that?
Alright, so let’s back up just a bit, slow down just a little, and see what we might notice together. At the outset of this relatively short story from Luke’s Gospel, there are ten men who are suffering from some form of skin disease. (It’s named as leprosy, which can be confusing, as what we today call leprosy – Hansen’s disease – is totally different.) That disease made them ritually unclean, which meant that they couldn’t participate in the Temple services and rituals at the center of their faith. And not able to practice their faith, these men stood on the outside of their community as well, likely feeling alone, abandoned, and desperate. And so, as St. Luke tells us, when these ten men realize Jesus is coming near them, they call out to him, not simply for comfort or companionship or someone to listen to them, but instead asking if he would have mercy on them and cure them.
And he does. All of them. As St. Luke writes, “When Jesus saw them, he said to them, ‘Go and show yourselves to the priests.’ And as they went, they were made clean.” All of them. Luke continues, “Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He stretched himself on the ground at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan”
Cool. Except…. Well, except that it’s only one. And Jesus notices that immediately, asking, “‘Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’”*
Jesus’ response, I think, is pretty understandable. He just cured ten men, instructing them to go to the Temple – something they have not been able to do for who knows how long – and show themselves to the priests so that they might return to both their faith and their community. Jesus, in other words, did exactly that they asked him to. And yet of the ten he made clean, only one bothers to come back and thank him.
And at this point in the story, I’m curious: is Jesus confused, do you think? Or hurt? Is he a little peeved, or disappointed, or even angry? Frankly, we don’t know for sure. What we do know is that he gets over it pretty quickly, shifts his attention to the one in front of him, and then offers this blessing, saying, “‘Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.’”
Again, cool. Except…. Well, except that, like we already said, Jesus healed all the men. All of them. St. Luke was really clear about that. So why does Jesus say, “your faith has made you well” if they’ve already all been made well?
As it turns out, it all comes down to how you translate a single Greek word. That word – sozo (pronounced more like sod-zo) – can indeed be translated as “made well,” in the sense of being healed. But it can also be translated as “saved,” in the sense of being brought through mortal danger. And it can be translated as “made whole,” in the sense of being completed and made to be what you were meant to be all along.
So ten were indeed made clean, but only one was saved. Ten were made clean, but only one was made whole. Ten were made clean, but only one recognized it and gave thanks and, in giving thanks, became what God had intended all along.
And that, I believe, is pretty much the secret to life: gratitude. Noticing grace, seeing goodness, paying attention to healing, stopping to take in blessing, and then giving thanks for the ordinary and extraordinary graces of our life together. This is the secret to a good life and the heart of saving faith.
Look, I know, I know, these things I’ve mentioned – noticing blessing and giving thanks – can seem like such small things, and yet I swear to you that they make all the difference. And I know this because I’ve seen it. In new parents and those in Hospice care, in the face of a child receiving an unexpected treat as well as the expression of a very ill patient recognizing the extraordinary care of a nurse.
Which is what I find so amazing – this gratitude which restores and heals and completes and saves… it’s available to us at every single moment of our lives. In our health or with those who are caring for us when we aren’t well. In those near and far who have contributed to who we are. In the fellowship we share in our congregations and for the people and programs that animate them. In both the rain and sunshine – and, at least in Minnesota, soon snow! – we enjoy. When you open your eyes to look, blessing is all around.
And so I don’t think Jesus is angry or upset with the nine who didn’t come back. I think his heart aches for them. That though they were made clean, they weren’t yet brought through the peril of an ungrateful life and so had not yet been made whole and had not yet become the people God hoped for them to be.
So there it is – the secret to life, the heart of faith. Because we were, I believe, made for gratitude. It completes us and saves us and transforms us and makes us whole. The one who returned to give thanks knew that. Jesus knew that. You know that, Dear Partner, I know you do. And, this Sunday, through your faithful labor, our people might know that as well.
Thank you for your good work, for your generous and abundant faith, and for your witness to the grace of God that not only showers us with blessing but gives us the eyes to see it and hearts eager to respond in gratitude.
Yours in Christ,
David
*There is a great deal one can do with the fact that the one who returns to give thanks is a Samaritan. For clarity of expression, I’ve focused this year not on that detail but the larger theme of gratitude. (Which leaves me another theme the next time this passage comes around. 🙂 )
It occurs to me that, being a Samaritan, perhaps the one man couldn’t go to the temple, so he turned to the only place he could go–back to Jesus. I wonder if we will risk being the one place left where today’s outcasts can go and give thanks that finally, FINALLY!, someone cares enough to offer healing. It’s where we can all rejoice and give thanks to God that grace leads to a life of gratitude.
By the way, it’s good to read your ideas again. Thank you!
Good point. I also wonder if the shame of being sick, outcast and living in the shadows (as many lepers were) made the reluctant to give thanks. Out of shame, fear the other shoe could drop, etc. I wonder if shame also keeps us from rejoicing when we are giving opportunities for healing and welcomed back into community (or relationship). Shame can often keep us from connection.